


Fucked

by genee



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-09-28
Updated: 2005-09-28
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:56:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124138
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genee/pseuds/genee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Weevil was off his bike before he even knew it, boots noisy in the sand, so loud he couldn't hear anything else, just his boots in the sand and then nothing, just quiet, just Logan, and Weevil had no god damn clue why Logan always had to fuck shit up more, but he wished he'd fuckin' stop. </i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Fucked

**Author's Note:**

> Vague spoilers through S1.

Logan was fucked, and everyone in the whole damn town knew it. Hell, even Logan knew it, but if he wanted to pretend like he didn't, whatever, Weevil didn't give a shit. Logan Echolls could laugh it up with his retarded fuckin' 09er friends, could slip as deep into his own little hell as he wanted to, and Weevil didn't have to do shit about it but sit back and enjoy the show.

And the show? Man, the show was _sweet_.

Logan on the beach, alone, just like he'd been the last six nights Weevil'd found him here, too far gone to care who might be in the shadows, watching. Most of the time Logan just stood around and watched the waves, pacing back and forth by the water's edge, hands stuffed in his pockets, cuffs dragging in the sand. Every once in a while he'd laugh, just throw his head back and laugh, and it was fuckin' freaky but it was also _Logan_ , and Weevil couldn't turn away from him, couldn't uncross his arms from over his chest and rev his bike's engine, no matter how much he wanted to.

Something was different about tonight, though. Logan was different, jeans too low on his hips, shirt torn at the shoulder and there was something off about his smile. Logan had gotten here early tonight, or maybe Weevil was late, not that it mattered because whoever'd gotten here before him was gone now, long gone, but Logan wasn't. Logan was waiting, waiting for _him_ , Weevil could tell that much already, but waiting for him to do _what_? That was the question.

And then Logan turned, wet lashes and swollen lips and Weevil really didn't give a shit anymore, because whatever Logan wanted was _fucked_ , and he wasn't gonna get it from Weevil. Not tonight. He was off his bike before he even knew it, boots noisy in the sand, so loud he couldn't hear anything else, just his boots in the sand and then nothing, just quiet, just Logan, and Weevil had no god damn clue why Logan always had to fuck shit up _more_ , but he wished he'd fuckin' stop.

 _Christ_.

Logan was shaking all over, Weevil could see that now, could feel his own hands skating over every single one of Logan's ribs. Over Logan's hipbones, too, sharper than they should be, but Logan stopped shaking when Weevil pulled him close, stopped shaking and dropped his head on Weevil's shoulder, his breath warm against Weevil's skin.

Weevil cupped his hand around the back of Logan's neck, his little finger sliding under the ridges of Logan's stupid necklace, and Logan laughed, not wild and loud like he had on those other nights, but softer, his face turned into Weevil's throat. "The fuck am I gonna do with you?" Weevil asked.

"I was hopin' you'd know," Logan said. "Seriously."

"Oh, I _know_ ," he said, tugging at Logan's hair until Logan looked up, finally. His eyes were clearer than Weevil expected, shiny, shinier still when Weevil dragged his thumb over the bruise blooming on Logan's cheekbone, breath catching in his throat, in Weevil's, too. "Let's go."

"Where?"

"You care?"

"No," Logan said, and Weevil leaned up and brushed his lips over Logan's, more of a promise than anything else because Logan's lips were still swollen, bitter and coppery and Weevil wanted to lick that taste away.

"You're gonna stop this shit," Weevil said, squeezing Logan's hand in his as they started back toward the parking lot, toward Weevil's bike and the night and the open road. Logan nodded and Weevil hoped he meant it, because Weevil wasn't kidding. Logan needed to knock this shit off, because Weevil was gonna take him home now, clean him up and spread him out and fuck him senseless, fuck him until Logan forgot about every shitty thing that ever happened to him. Until they both forgot.

Logan climbed on the back Weevil's bike and Weevil wished he'd thought to bring his jacket with him, wanted to see Logan wrapped up in black leather and smiling like he was right now, but fuck it, he figured the smile was enough for tonight, considering.

"I'm serious," Weevil said, his hand on the ignition, feeling Logan behind him and the bike underneath, solid, ready. "I don't share."

"Yeah, okay," Logan said, but Weevil could feel him pulling away even though he hadn't moved a muscle, and that was definitely _not_ okay.

"Shit," Weevil swore, twisting around to palm Logan's cheek before he kissed him again, harder than he'd meant to but Logan just moaned, so fuckin' sweet, and Weevil wasn't sure he could give him up now, not even if he wanted to.

"I don't share _you_ ," Weevil said, his voice low and growl-y, and when Logan laughed out loud, wrapped his arms around Weevil's waist and held on tight, he knew he was just as fucked as Logan as ever was, and he didn't give a shit. He didn't give a shit at _all_.

   
   


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